


Remembrance Part II

by A_N_Whitmore



Series: Totality [2]
Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Family Loss, First Time, Forgiveness, Loneliness, M/M, Multi, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, The Author Regrets Nothing, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, letting go of the past
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-18
Updated: 2020-07-18
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:07:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25367335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_N_Whitmore/pseuds/A_N_Whitmore
Summary: In the midst of the peace, Haymitch finds himself still at a loss, though the town accepts and forgives the victors, they cannot forgive themselves it seems. Haymitch still feels one loss like he wears it on his sleeve. Can Peeta help him to see that what happened was not his fault, can Peeta make Haymitch see just how much he means to them?
Relationships: Haymitch Abernathy/Katniss Everdeen, Haymitch Abernathy/Katniss Everdeen/Peeta Mellark, Haymitch Abernathy/Peeta Mellark, Katniss Everdeen/Peeta Mellark
Series: Totality [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1834213
Kudos: 8





	Remembrance Part II

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, so as I said, this is a hard fic that echoes a lot of things that happened in my own life and relationships. If you don't like it don't read PERIOD. Oh and to Everything is Open, I was quite clear in the notes, if you don't like it, tough shit. This is the one and only flame I'll address. Polyamory is not always neat and tidy and hunky-dory. Lets get that clear right now. For some people it is a support system that starts out as unhealthy but changes over time. This is one of those relationships. These people were shaped to be killers, they have a lot of fucked up shit a pill isn't going to magically take away. They have to find their innocence again, their desire, and hope. 
> 
> Go read a happy love dove story if you cannot stand reality. This is a therapy for me and maybe somebody else out there who needs it. You don't like? DON'T READ!

When we finally come back into the house after I milk the goats and feed the geese, I find Katniss making up some hot chocolate.

“Sit Peeta, I don’t want you to work anymore today. You’ve done enough. We can handle the rest of the cooking and cleaning up” She sets the chocolate goodness on the little table next to the rocking chair and paces back to the area near the doorway. Taking her mother’s old medical kit out of the cupboard near the ice chest, the opens it and finds the hand splint and wraps. She takes the topical morphling gel from the cold rack in the fridge and walks back to the table where Peeta has his hand resting.

“Haymitch? Could you come help me to look at whether Peeta broke something or if it looks like just a bad strain? I can’t tell. I’d hate to cast it for nothing.” I gently lift his hand, watching him wince as my thumb grazed over the injured area.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry I talked over you like you weren’t there. I didn’t mean to make you feel like you were less than an adult.”

“It wasn’t really your intention, I’m aware of that but it doesn’t change the reality. Almost everyone acts like I’m this fragile thing and they don’t want to hurt me. But, I want to be talked to, not over. I know I’ve got something wrong with me but I’m still here.”

Katniss walks over, kissing him gently on the head as he leans back against her, “Nothing is wrong with you, something is wrong because of what they did. You aren’t the problem Peeta, ok?”

“My actions are possibly the result of the hijacking, but I still did them. I hurt you during sex, I may not remember it or when it happens but I still did it.” He watches as I manipulate the motion of his hand, grunting in pain as I walk my fingers up and down the last three digits.

“Make a fist.” I watch as the last three fingers cross on top of each other in a scissor like fashion.

“We have a break, the last three knuckles and fingers. Good thing it’s your left hand,” Peeta blanches and blushes, sputtering, “What? I only meant you wouldn’t be able to paint or draw if you broke the right.” I winked, “You have plaster? We can use that, the bandages and cotton batting.”

“The plaster’s over in Prim’s cupboard. The one next to the sink.” Katniss begins unrolling the bandages and measuring them to wrap around in two layers. I cross to the sink and shift the herbs overhead to open the door. There in a beige paper sack, I find the powdery plaster of Paris. Reaching under the sink I grab one of the clay bowls.

“Use the metal bowl, the plaster is a bitch to get off of clay.” Peeta points with his right hand to a stack of metal bowls in the drainer.” I nod taking the bowl and measure out the powder and water ratio, stirring it until the water looks like beige soup.

“Cotton batting is on the sewing shelf.”

“Sewing shelf, sewing shelf… got it!” I smile to myself as I spy the canister with buttons and fabric layered. Katniss grabs the bowl as I find the fluff of the batting and soon we get to work.  
Peeta winces as we begin wrapping his broken fingers and hand, even after I coated them in the morphling gel. We measure down to the mid forearm and start layering the wet fabric strips over the batting. We continue this for some time before having him sit by the fire to have the cast dry.

“Shit, it’s almost six. Let me reheat the sopitas and the cocoa. Then we’ll get your pills.” I take his drink and pour it back into the large copper pot, grabbing the ignitor I restart the pilot light wicks and look at the amount of charcoal remaining in the tray. Soon the Seam’s famous fall drink is bubbling and sending out clouds of cinnamon and spice. Katniss stirs the sopitas on the second burner while Peeta relaxes.

Knowing Katniss has everything in hand I head upstairs to our room and take a moment to breathe. I smell like a mixture of food and goats, I should shower but there isn’t enough time. Instead I grab the green worn sweater my brother loved so much and slip it on over a clean undershirt.

My brother loved the remembrance festival, when I close my eyes I can see his nearly sixteen year old self smiling as he breaks a sugar skull in half to share with friends he loved like family. I allow my mind’s eye to speed up time, changing things in my limited imagination to picture him as an adult meeting Katniss and Peeta for the first time.

_‘She’s rather pushy isn’t she? Then again, you are stubborn as hell, she balances you out. Him though? Him I like a lot.’_

My brother had always been very open about his dalliances and his preference for both men and women. It wasn’t a town secret but it was huge source of contention. My father’d often called Adam soft, a fairy and other names that I’d rather keep forgotten. We were only a year or so apart, but we were so alike in looks and mannerism, we could have been mistaken for twins. After winning my game, when Snow killed them… I felt his loss the deepest. Perhaps I was living for this reason, to do all the things that he never got to do. Better late than never.

As I trot back down the stairs I’m greeted by Hazelle who walks through the door with a loaded plate and bags.

“Haymitch, come here and give me a hand? I invited some of the town to come up for the kids sakes. They won’t be able to go door to door for treats this year, so I thought it would be nice to have them come to us.”

“Oh boy. Yeah, let me help you with those.” Make yourself at home, we have coffee or cocoa… Something stronger perhaps?” I grab the plate from her off overly laden self and she sets the cloth bags on the floor.

“Tequila. I’ve spent all day on my feet between hunting and making these puppets. Do you think they’ll like them? I plan on raffling them off at the end of the festival.” She opens the bag and I find it laden with home made sugar snaps, caramel chews and cinnamon red hots along with the traditional candies. Four skeleton marionettes sit above the candy dressed in ancient Seam clothes… although they had another name once.

“Mis bebe, you look as though you have something on your mind.”

“I’m wondering how we’re going to fit a crowd in here, how many people are coming?

“Just ten children and their parents, Rory and Sarah have games planned.” Gale’s brother Rory.

“Ten kids… Ok then, let me get that drink for you, Kat we’re gonna’ have company!”

I walk back into the kitchen, “Hazelle’s invited all the kids in town.” Looking at Peeta, I watch his eyes light up.

“Do we even have enough food Peeta?” Katniss starts looking over the tabletop covered in chafing dishes, lifting the lid on the large serving plate Hazelle brought.

“We should, I made enough punch yesterday for four gallons, the Sopitas I doubled from ten servings to twenty last night while you all were asleep. We have extra molè sauce jared in the larder, I just wanted to test this new roasted style. We have about a hundred tortillas? There’s the salad… crap we forgot the salad.”

“Doesn’t matter, Hazelle’s food has at least thirty or more servings.”

I nod, opening the root cellar’s inside door and climb down the ladder, finding it filled to the brim with dried food, medical supplies, and alcohol. So he was running the market out of the house, smart move. He has everything labeled in tight, neat cursive script and I wonder just who has been shipping this much product until I see the thirteen stars surrounding the newly designed eagle of Panem. The eagle holds wheat in one claw and olive branches in the other.

“Paylor.” It shocks me that this woman is still giving so much to Twelve when the council says we’ve been given enough. I know now that she is a president for the people. The elections of senators and representatives for each district is due in December before the start of Yule, she has another year before her interim presidency is challenged in a fair election.  
Locating the tequila and a few other bottles of spirits and wine, I place the strings over my neck and climb back up.

“Think this should be enough?” I hear the door open as Katniss greets Rory and Sarah with Posey and her husband Matthew not far behind. Posey is heavily pregnant and looks ready to give birth any day. Peeta stands up and presses the cast, finding no give to the materials and walks over, grabbing the bottles in his good hand he smiles.

“This should be plenty.”

“Are you going to be ok with so many people around?”

“If worse comes to worse, I’ll play with the kids. They never trigger me. Besides, I have my pills.” He pops the white pill container out of his pocket and opens the dispenser with his thumb. Three pills drop onto the counter. The lithium and keppra I know, but the third is orange and one I don’t know that I’ve seen before.

“What’s this one?” I tap my finger next to the pill. The last thing I need is for him to take the wrong meds.

Celexa, it’ll let me stay calm even if there are a bunch of people around.”

“Huh, smart to take it now before everyone gets here.”  
==============================================

The night finds our house full , I am dodging sugared up children and the fellow survivors from Twelve left and right. Out of the eight hundred Gale saved, only about two hundred resettled. Yet, those settlers are mostly young and eager to start again. Looking around I see at least eight expectant mothers standing around Katniss and gushing not only about the decorations but her fiancé’s cooking.  
I find Peeta sitting on the floor surrounded by a group of eight children wearing costumes reflecting the old stories of witches and ghosts amongst other more modern myths. He’s in his element as he makes the skeleton marionettes dance to the music.

Joining him, I am surprised as he passes one of the marionettes to me. He makes the female skeleton dance, kissing mine on the lips and I catch him staring at me his smile more sly and sexually flirtatious than I’ve ever seen before. I find myself laughing and enjoying him, returning his PG puppet banter but meaning ever so much more once all of these people leave.

Katniss has one of Rory’s daughters in hand and I can see that she too is relaxed as she sips at Rory’s mulled mead. Maybe this is what we needed, time for the citizens of Twelve to see us as more than people who killed for sport and then killed for war. Helping to rebuild the church and the town was just the start, having them choose to gather here allowed us to get to know them in turn.

Hours later everyone is thanking us for the night and exiting as Katniss shuts the door with a sigh. Candy wrappers litter the floor around Peeta as he holds Masie, Sae’s granddaughter.  
“How’re you holding up?” I ask as I join him once more.

“For once? Really well. I’m amazed we had enough food. We were running a little low on everything. They loved the tortillas. No one thought flowers could actually taste good. I think I had six people ask me to teach them the recipes.”

“Sounds like that cooking school may happen sooner than you think.”

“I’m not sure I’d say that.”

“Oh wow my ribs hurt, I don’t think I’ve laughed that much in years.” Katniss sits down across from us rubbing the back of her neck, “Did you have a good time? I kept wanting to get over to you but everyone seemed so intrigued with your group puppet shows. The kids all love you Peeta.”

“I think I like them too.” Peeta brushes Masie’s hair with his hand.

“I think that was the first good surprise we’ve had since the end of all of this. Did you talk to Hazelle about…Gale?” I pick Masie up with a little bit of protest on her part as Sae walks out of the kitchen.

“He’s good, but she gave me a letter. I’m not sure how I feel about it.”

“You don’t have to read it right away girl, read it when you are ready. I’ve known both of you since you were young and I can tell you he could use a dose of patience. I don’t know the whole story but I know enough.” Sae lifts Maise from my hold as smiles, “ Apparently you’re uncle Haymie now.”

“She’s very creative, she kept giving us stories to do.” Peeta brushed a lock of blonde hair hair out of Maise’s eyes as Sae walked to the front door.

“Look, I just want to say thank you. Over these last few months, having you all help to rebuild the church, teach us how to hunt, everything… Just a heads up, they’re planning something to show their appreciation.”

“We just wanted to make things right.”

“Peeta… you all did nothing wrong, we owe you all our lives.” Sae hugs Katniss and walks out with Maise in her arms.

The feeling of having another person say that they owed us their lives weighs heavy on my heart. In all honesty I went along with things as a last ditch effort, in actuality I didn’t even think I’d be alive to do anything at all much less help to rebuild a nation or end up finding love ever again.

The hardest thing for me was the realization that they didn’t hold us responsible for the bombing of Twelve when we ourselves still do. If I’d been able to be there I could have helped save more. Maybe I could have prevented Gale from wanting revenge with Coin. I know logically that is impossible, bur if I could have, I would have split myself into two.

“Penny for your thoughts Haymitch?” Katniss turns to me as I feel sleet come through the open doorway.  
“They just accept us, there isn’t any reservation or anger… No one’s called me a drunk fool in months. I just wish I could have been here, like I could split myself into two.”  
She doesn’t say a word but nods as she takes two steps into my arms and hugs me tightly.

When we let go I can see Peeta blowing the candles out and removing the coffee and sweets from the Ofrenda before turning back to us and holding out his right hand to us.  
“I don’t know about you, but I am ready for bed.”  
=======================================================

As we all lay there in the silence of the darkened room, my mind turns once more to my brother and mother, no matter how much I try to shake them, they won’t dissipate from my mind.

“Kat?” Katniss hums in response, her body in the midst of drifting into the deeper levels of REM. I feel Peeta tap on my arm, his hand brushing my bicep in comfort.  
“Can’t sleep?” This is the first night that not being able to sleep has occurred since I’ve moved in and it’s disconcerting because with them I’ve felt at ease.

“I have a dilemma but go back to sleep handsome. I’m sure I’ll be right as rain tomorrow.”

Peeta adjusts his casted hand and shifts upright into a sitting position.

“Don’t do that, don’t shut me out.”

“I’m not, I just don’t want to be…”

We’ve been speaking in low dulcet tone, murmuring just loud enough for each other to hear without waking Kat.  
“Don’t want to be what? A burden?”

“Just let it go.” I needed to get a drink, every time I close my eyes I keep seeing the flame that destroyed Adam’s carvings of birds, my mother’s sewing samples. I keep seeing their mangled and burned bodies.

Peeta gets up out of the bed, his body covered with one of my shirts and a pair of boxers. Since when did he steal my clothes?  
I always prefer to be nude no matter what time of year but Peeta tosses me a pair of sweatpants.  
“What can’t handle this?” I smirk in the low light of the wood stove in the corner.  
“More like the kitchen is freezing right now, please… don’t flatter yourself.”

I reach down and grab the bottle of scotch standing up under the bed, walking to the door I take out the stopper with my teeth and spit it to the corner.  
Taking a long swig, I feel the burn and my alcoholic self perks up at the nipple of its mother coming home to roost.  
I walk leisurely down the steps with Peeta behind me and turn into the kitchen. I grab a small clay cup off the counter to the right and pour a generous portion out of the bottle.

Seeing Katniss do this yesterday to her side of the Ofrenda gives me confidence to do something I haven’t done since I was twelve. I go to pray.  
Peeta watches as I cross to the altar. On my side, she has placed Santa Muerte, the patron saint of death. I haven’t been to a church in twenty-eight years. My actions are bound to be rusty.  
I don’t know if I still believe in God after the death of my family and the games, but I do believe in death.

I set the mug down, and light the multi colored candles with the small lighter Katniss left in the front along with two pieces of incense. Katniss’ statue is a beautiful creation of a woman clothed in black, her eyes covered by the mask of a skull with her one wing outstretched , a scythe in her right hand and an hour glass in the other. She sits upon a black and white throne covered in a scarlet throw.

Her statue of Mary on the other side is a polar opposite, carved in porcelain, she is clothed in soft white fur and golden yellow, her train of royal blue. Her hand is lifted in the sign of peace as the infant Christ is sat upon her knee. Upon her head rests a crown of gold with stars. It represents a dividing line of the pain in this world and the peace yet to come, peace I hope my family has found.

I dip my fingers in the alcohol and sprinkle a few drops at the feet of the statue of Holy Death and close my eyes.

“Hey, it’s ah… it’s been a long time. I know you already showed me favor along with Katniss and Peeta. You allowed us to survive the games and the rebellion. So I get it if you don’t want to give this old alcoholic much more time on this earth. But I have a request, can you tell my mom I love her? That I miss her and Adam every day? Can you ask their forgiveness for me?  
Tell them I’m finally doing ok even if the dynamic is a little fucked up. even if it’s wrong. I wanted to know if they would be ok if… If I buried them in the church today? Their bones could use a resting place.”

I reach over and pick up my mother’s portrait from the Ofrenda, staring into her Seam eyes, taking another swig from the bottle as a tear trails down my face. I promised myself I wouldn’t cry again. The candle near her portrait space flickers and waves, dancing in the dark, popping suddenly in the quiet.

“Hey ma, glad you could make it.”

I feel Peeta come to a stop next to me, not saying a word as I stand there for a few minutes. Her candle pops and sputters a few more times before blowing out..

“I think that means they’re ready.” Peeta whispers quietly. We watch the white smoke of the candle drift upwards to the ceiling. I’m glad it’s him here with me.  
============================================

It’s still dark out as we travel the small distance to my broken and battered home. As I open the door, bottles still clatter and the smell of must and moisture are evident. I realize I never want to come back here again. I climb the rickety steps to the dusty old room where Snow placed the few pictures Peeta had found, where the deed to my house and the other victor homes rested. There are other small keepsakes that I can’t bear to look at, such as Lucia’s last letter to me before the games, my mother’s wedding veil that she was going to wear and a withered and flaking white rose resting on top.

“Come help me with this.”

I walk over to the corner of the room, and bend down, removing the red blanket from my mother and brother’s ossuary. Peeta takes the handle on the other side and we lift it to the desk. Even though it’s dark, I run my hand over the carvings of Jesus and the apostles. My brother meant it to be Lucia’s wedding chest, not his grave.

I wipe the dust off, and my hand rests on the camphor wood dome. I feel my chest begin to tighten as my shoulders shake, I try to swallow the sob but I can’t. It is wrenched from my chest as I take another heavy drink.

“Haymitch.”

“I killed them, I killed them… oh Jesus. I killed them.” I nearly fall to the floor but grip the desk to keep myself upright. I haven’t ever talked about it with anyone, haven’t let myself grieve.

“Haymitch look at me!” I feel Peeta’s hands take hold of my face forcing me to look up at him.  
“This wasn’t your fault, none of this was your fault. Snow did it. Don't you see how good you are? You mean everything to us."  
I shake my head , the tears coming harder.  
"You are good Haymitch, I'm going to show you how much, even if it takes me the rest of our lives."

The silence of the house is almost deafening as he pulls me to him, leading me away from their bones and out of that room of memories. He tries the handles to various rooms as he peels me out of my clothes, clothes he insisted I wear, before he finds my bedroom as pulls me into it.

I know it’s severely unhealthy, the way we’ve been brought together, this need, this intimacy as a coping mechanism. I know it can’t last if we don’t change, or perhaps everything will fall apart anyway. Yet, as I feel his lips and teeth on me I need more.

“Touch me.” His hands wipe away the dirt and the grime from my soul, tracing over my nearly naked flesh as he lays there clothed refusing my assistance as I reach to undress him.  
“No, Haymitch let me be there for you.”  
He continues to peel me out of my shirt along with his own; his cast getting stuck on the sleeve as he struggles but soon I feel the press of his flesh against mine and cry out as his hot hand finds me achingly miserable and feeling so alone.

Despite being surrounded by comfort for the last three weeks, I still feel lost, lonely and wandering a lot of the time. Maybe it’s because I’ve been alone for so many years.

There’s reassurance in his voice, that placating talk he’s always been so good at. I wonder who he talks to. My internal consciousness answers for me, _'No one, you took his support away._

Katniss, who sleeps in our large empty picture bed, did I keep her from him? Did she keep herself from him? I have no time to answer as I feel him pull me up roughly against the headboard with his good hand, the scratch of his plaster cast catching painfully against my left hip. His strength is a marvel, I watch his blonde curls shine in the muted moonlight now bursting across the meadow graveyard, and into the broken blinds of my bedroom.

His lips travel down my abdomen, licking across the long scar of the blade that nearly took my life so may years ago. For all his fumbling, he makes up for it with sensation blooming across my skin. I touch the gentle golden fall of his hair, my fingers curling tightly into it as I feel him lick the head of my cock through the sleep shorts I still had on. Gone were my pants and coat, kicked off down the hall. My cap now lay resting somewhere in the dusty office where my family lies in their long sleep.

I buck eagerly as he suckles, his unskilled mouth somehow better than the women I had lain with so many years ago to try and forget Lucia. He presses further forcing my hips to stay still with his forearms. The cast still scratches horribly. The heat of his tongue and press of his mouth over the cotton almost too much. He shifts and I look down to see my young love struggling not to touch himself, to make himself last. his hand curled in his obviously aroused lap.

“Peeta… do what you want…” I groan at the thought of him taking me over as Katniss does, taking what they want. I’ve never given into my submissive tendencies with anyone but her.  
He removes his mouth, his eyes moving over my body with an almost glassy arousal.

“Anything?”

I want to give this sweet, innocent boy the world, I feel two fingers lightly press below my scrotum and realize he wants it all, he isn’t as innocent as I thought. I nod, my chest stuttering with short gasping breaths.

“Go slow.” I feel him peel the damp cotton off of me and his wet mouth is suddenly over my cock again, sucking as though he would never get the chance again. Slowly, memorizing the shape and texture while slowly killing me inside as he drives me closer to the edge.

He leaves me wanting as he lifts off, pulling his jeans down.

“Bottom drawer, right side. Protection and gel.”

Peeta nods, grabbing the requested items and tearing the condom open with his teeth. He pulls himself, firmly with long, stroking baker’s hands. I haven’t seen anything so beautiful besides Peeta and Katniss in years. His arms and legs are perfectly proportioned with beautifully defined muscles whereas she is lithe as a deer, all legs. She is the moon, he the sun, they turned me as the earth. They kept me alive. Katniss was the gravity and he the life bringing warmth.

I no longer know if I am the bulwark to their tower. The cold of the gel in the most intimate of places makes me moan for him as I feel the press of his fingers slowly enter me. I cannot bring myself to look at him, his bright goodness too much for my damned soul. To be kissed by his innocent radiance is more than I ever hoped for. Both of them is more than I deserve.  
The stretch and burn as he adds another finger makes my legs stiffen as he brushes over that internal space that is so hard to reach when alone.

“Keep doing that love and I’m not going to make it to the end.”

“You love me?” He gasps, leaning over as he catches my mouth.

I shiver as he drives me higher and then backs off. He must be working me the way he does himself.  
“Yes.” my head falls back into the worn but cleaned pillows.

He removes his fingers and I feel them replaced with his cock, the tip slipping in slowly as I relax. I feel his jaw clench against the side of my face as he suddenly finds himself resting within me, the greedy press of my feet about the small of his back not allowing him to move just yet.

“Oh… God… I, saints and hell's bells you feel amazing.” His hips snap against my pelvis as I move slightly against him. Finally I’m ready and I lower my legs, allowing him to move to his heart’s desired pace. He’s no longer slow and tentative, I feel the headboard hitting the wall, the pictures of my attempts at drawing the wildling geese last winter clattering as they nearly fall.

“Fuck, keep going, Peeta if you stop…” I feel the blinding light threatening me, the rush of the ocean tempestuous in my inner ear.

Our knees and thighs bump repeatedly as I allow him to have his way, his broken hand supported by my shoulder and held in place as he loves me. Yet, I know something is missing. He loves to be kissed, it’s his language. Katniss’s is long slow touches, mine is claiming marks. I turn and find his lips, finally letting it all go, goodbye to Adam, goodbye to my mother and a fucking goodbye to my past. Here was my future. The white light envelopes me and I feel lost in surrender.


End file.
